Why
by blu3crush
Summary: (Completed) - "Did anything happen?" he asked, wanting to keep the line alive. He grabbed the pair of jeans he threw onto the sofa and wore them in a swift motion. "Blood… Pains… Finally… Release…" Sara said deliriously. "Sara, I'm coming. Are you at home?" "Home? No… home… I don't have a home…" Sara whimpered. The sobs grew softer. A Greg-centric story.


I find this story is more Greg-centric. I have always wanted to do one fiction which is Greg-centric but I can't resist throwing Sara into it. Well, I love their friendship and Greg had always been there for her.

This story deals with attempted suicide and depression. – Just a warning though. Depression and suicide are closely related. I am definitely not an advocate for suicide. If there's a problem, please deal with it or talk to someone who can help you.

This is one shot, definitely. And this is for Sandle fan! I normally write GSR but this is for a change. I think this must be the episode of nesting doll and 4x4. I re-watched them. And, the ultimate reason, GREG IS WAY TOO CUTE to RESIST!

xoxo,  
blu3crush.

* * *

A phone call and that was what it needed. Greg was always one phone call away for Sara. No matter what he was doing, as long as Sara called, he will be there for her immediately. That was how beautiful their friendship was. Sometimes, Greg hoped that it was more than friendship but he tried flirting, hinting and asking her out for dinner. None of them worked. She told him that they were best friends and there was nothing she wanted to do to spoil this friendship.

With a heavy sigh, he raked his hands through his ashy blonde hairs. All he could do now was to wait for the ER doctors.

The over zealous pastel colors of the room were blinding him. The antiseptic smell lingered in his nose which made him sick.

He could only keep his eyes lowered and breathed in and out slowly as he thought about what would happen if he missed that call.

He almost did not want to pick up the phone call. Tonight, he was tossing and turning in the bed, trying to sleep. This was his day off and he did not want to be call in for work. He worked double shifts for a few days and was looking forward to a good night rest, but strangely, his body just refused to cooperate with him.

He cursed himself when the blaring of his cell-phone cut through the silence of his room. He did not want to pick up the call but the blare persisted. He had no choice but to throw his warm comforter away from him and fumbled out of the bed to pick up the call.

When he saw the name on the caller ID, he pressed the connect button quickly. It was strange that Sara would contact him in the middle of the night during his day off.

He could only hear the static and nothing else. He strained his ears to listen for any background sounds. After hearing nothing, he guessed Sara perhaps had pocket-dialed him.

When he wanted to flip his phone shut, he heard something. A very soft moan.

"Sara!" he screamed into the phone.

"Grissom… Greg…?" the voice on the other end was weak and confused.

"Did anything happen?" he asked, wanting to keep the line alive. He grabbed the pair of jeans he threw onto the sofa and wore them in a swift motion.

"Blood… Pains… Finally… Release…" Sara said deliriously.

"Sara, I'm coming. Are you at home?"

"Home? No… home… I don't have a home…" Sara whimpered. The sobs grew softer.

"Don't you dare to let go of your life. I'm coming," Greg looked around for his car keys and wallet. He cursed himself for being such an untidy guy when he could not find his either of them.

Finally, he remembered those two items were in his bag. Grabbing his bag, he made his way down to the garage and hoped for the best.

His car screeched to a halt when he stopped in front of Sara's condo. The homeless guy that was sleeping on the nearby bench threw him a dirty stare for disturbing his nap. Greg did not care about it. He was too worried about Sara.

Greg panted heavily when he reached Sara's apartment. He decided to take the stairs instead, figuring that running up the stairs would be faster.

The door to her apartment was left ajar. The interior was dark and cold.

Greg stepped in and he could smell the metallic smell that was associated with blood.

Reaching for the switch, he flipped it on. The sudden brightness of the lights caused him to squeeze his eyes shut.

Slowly opening his eyes, he surveyed the surrounding. The apartment was the same as he last visited Sara. Everything was in place, prim and proper.

Then he saw her. She was lying on the floor, curled up in a fetal position.

Both of her wrists were cut. The sickening blood pooled under her arm. Though it was not life threatening but it was significant enough to cause Sara to be in a delirious state.

Then he saw the empty vodka bottle and the blood encrusted knife lying beside Sara.

"Sara!" he shouted.

"Please stay with me," he cried as he pulled her into a hug.

"Family of Sara Sidle?" a low baritone voice pulled him back to reality. He jerked his head up and lifted up his hand.

The male nurse smiled at him.

"I'm a friend of Sara Sidle. Is she alright?" he asked, his voice filled with fear.

"She's fine physically. But mentally, I am afraid not. We need to call in the police for her attempted suicide."

"No, don't. I can call her supervisor later. We're with the police department. We can handle this," Greg said quickly. He needed to stop them from calling the police. He was worried if this get around the department, he wasn't sure Sara could handle it.

"But…" the nurse furrowed his thick bushy brows together.

"We can handle this. This will leave a mark on her record if the police are call. We can handle it. And I ensure you that she will see a counselor. And I don't think she's attempting suicide. Her BAC is high. She was intoxicated, so I think she accidentally slashed her wrists." Greg attempted to cover up for Sara. The explanation was feeble and lousy.

The nurse eyed him suspiciously.

"If you say so," the nurse shrugged. He did not want to meddle in these muddy waters. If the gentleman in front of him said that he could handle the situation, he would be more than glad to pass it to him.

"You can see her when she's transferred to the normal ward. The doctor had sedated her and it might take some times before she wake up."

Greg dragged the chair nearer to Sara's bed and settled into it. He shifted a little, trying to make himself comfortable. The chair was a little too small for his frame but he would make do with it.

The soft glow of the light shone onto Sara's face. Her lips were so white that it blended into her pale complexion. He sighed when he saw the bandaged wrists. He wondered what set Sara off.

He remembered that she was an energetic bunny when she first stepped into his lab. She was such a sunshine babe. She was never stingy with laughter and jokes.

But he watched her sank into the abyss slowly.

For the past few years in Vegas, it seemed to drain the life out of her. The vitality she used to display ebb away slowly. Now, whenever she was in the lab, or out in the field, she wore a frown on her face. Sometimes, when she bothered to keep a façade, she wore a mask of fake smiles.

He saw right through her mask. The eyes behind the façade were empty, hollow and lifeless.

He tried to cajole her to tell him her problems but failed terribly. Always, she just laughed it off. Now, he blamed himself for not trying harder.

"Sara, please don't give up."

"I'm so sorry that I never try harder."

"Please wake up." He pleaded. He took her wrists in his hands and planted a kiss on them.

Nana Olaf once told him that kissing on someone's wound would allow the wound to heal faster. Nana Olaf had always kissed his wounds and sang him a lullaby as she cradled him in her arms.

"I wish I could cradle you, Sara. But, I don't think your IV-drip allows that and I am afraid that you would kill me when you wake up." He said, gently placing the wrist on the bed.

"Perhaps I can sing."

"Nana Olaf always sings rock-a-bye-baby to me. But my singing, no, mine is croaking. I can't sing at all. The singing genes never transfer to me. My daddy is a singer. He serenaded my mummy through his fabulous singing. If you don't want me to sing, wake up now and give me a smack!" A small smile spread across his face.

Despite the situation, he found that he can still joke.

"Sara… I am going to croak now… Wake up!"

He heard a soft chuckle emitting from her lips.

"Sara?"

Sara opened her slowly and met Greg's eyes. The care and concern that were in Greg's eyes comforted her.

"Am I dead? No, if I am dead, I should be in hell. But Greg, you're such an angel. There's no way I would be in heaven. So I'm still alive." She concluded bitterly.

She wanted to die. She thought dying could resolve every single problem she had. She could escape her traumatic childhood. She could stop finding validations in improper people. She could stop her heart bleeding. And the most important part, she could stop loving Grissom.

Her heart winced in pain when she thought of Grissom.

She never thought she would fall so hard for a man. She wanted to live a life of solitary after the episode of Hank. Yet, she allowed herself to slip into the Grissom's trap.

"Sara, you're alive. I forbid you to die."

"I don't know, Greg. My heart told me to take the knife and cut across the wrists. And I did. I guess my brain stopped functioning. I wanted to stop the pains. I wanted to drive that knife down my heart but I never have the courage to do that. So I settled with slashing of my wrists. Then when the bleeding started, my mind started to cloud. I guess that's when I called you. I knew you would come for me. Perhaps, in my sub-conscious, I didn't want to die." She confessed. Her eyes focused on the white-washed wall.

She was afraid that Greg would push her away, yelled at her silliness and then leave the room.

"Sara, I am sorry I never try hard enough to find out the root cause of your problem. It's my fault. I should have…"

"It's never your fault, Greg," Sara cut in before Greg could continue.

"It's always my fault." She tilted her head backward, refusing to allow the useless tears to roll down.

"Sara, promise me this. Don't scare me anymore. We can do it together." Greg held her hand tightly, giving her the support she needed.

"Greg…" Sara bit her lips. She was thankful for Greg's support. She really was. But she did not think she could ever walk out of her depression.

"I will help you. Sara. I know you can." Greg kissed the top of Sara's head.

"Greg." Her voice registered surprise.

"Sara, don't say anything. We can start with baby steps. I will pull you out of the abyss that you're sinking in now. I'm your best friend. And I am sure I can help you out of your depression, if you open your heart."

His words warmed her heart. He loved her unconditionally. And for that, Sara was willing to open her heart for Greg to help her.

He thought he would miss the small bob of her head if he did not look hard enough.

"Thanks, Greg." Sara favored him a small smile.

The smile small was enough for Greg. It was the starting point of Sara's recovery. In months to come, the journey maybe plagued with difficulties but he knew that they could do it together.

* * *

As for whether if they end up together, it's really up to you to wonder.

If you like it, just review and let me know!


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